Cusconar

Cuscolna, the magnificent city, was founded in the Fifth Era. Once the most important city in the eastern Kainia Empire and the central hub of eastern trade, it lay west of the vital Propontis Strait, the only passage from the northern Cimmerian Sea southward to the Sea of Earth. To the north of the strait was the Cimmerian Sea, to the south the Salonika Sea, to the east the Bithynian Plateau, and to the west the Dardanian Plain.

The city's location was so important that, at the very founding of the Imperium, it had been intended as the new capital. But before its construction could be fully completed, Ambrose II, the last unified emperor of Kainia Empire, closed his eyes forever. After his death, his two sons divided the Scale Kingdom between them. Sherif I, the first emperor of the East Kainia Empire, decided to expand Cusconar. After a full twenty years of construction, the final brick in Cusconar's walls was finally laid. A magnificent city of unparalleled glory rose beside the strait. It was so vast that its outer walls alone stretched from Silver Horn Bay all the way to the Salonika coast, for a total length of 4,500 meters.

Within the city were countless level stone-paved streets and the most complete drainage system of the age. Libraries, arenas, churches, universities, ports... every facility had been properly placed in the most suitable location, and ample room had been reserved for future expansion. Such a flawless city naturally drew countless merchants, nobles, and commoners to settle there. Before long, the entire city became bustling and lively. When the West Kainia Empire sank into dark unrest and chaos, Cusconar became the brightest beacon in the world.

The Queen of Ten Thousand Cities—this was the highest praise poets of that era bestowed upon her.

Even now, the city still radiated glory and vigorous life. It remained the undisputed academic, trade, and economic center of the entire world. Only, beyond its walls, many enormous smokestacks and straight railway tracks had appeared.

Taryn University, situated beside Old Sycamore Street in Cusconar's university district, was one of the Imperium's most influential institutions. Founded in the Eleventh Era, it initially taught only theology, literature, law, and similar subjects. But as time passed, philosophy, mathematics, mysticism, and other fields were added. Biology, which had sparked an enormous craze, was also first introduced by this university. The campus covered sixteen hectares and contained twenty colleges, with the College of Biology at its northernmost end.

Louis Pasteur, dean of the College of Biology, was as usual reviewing the latest experimental reports in his office. More than seventy years old, he peered laboriously through his spectacles at the tiny writing on the pages, his graying beard hanging all the way to the desk.

"Here..."

Seemingly having discovered a problem, he frowned slightly. Recently, because of Carlos Salinas's paper, many professors and students had begun voicing all manner of strange theories. He disliked that ostentatious atmosphere. Carlos Salinas had reached those conclusions only after countless observations and experiments, not through mere speculation or imagination.

Knock, knock.

Someone suddenly tapped softly on the door. Pasteur set down his glasses, a smile appearing on his face.

"I thought you weren't coming."

"I promised you I would, old Louis."

The one who pushed open the door and entered was none other than Diego, who had slipped away from Guk. He too wore a smile. Taking off his hat, he tossed it onto the coat rack, pulled over a chair, and sat down opposite Pasteur.

"Look at you. You must be exhausted after rushing all the way back. I'll make you some tea."

After folding the experimental report and placing it in a drawer, Pasteur braced himself on the chair and shakily rose to his feet. He turned to fetch a teapot from the cabinet, but a hand suddenly reached out from beside him and took it first.

"I'll do it."

With practiced ease, Diego took tea leaves from another cabinet, poured the hot water that had been boiling into the pot, and set two porcelain cups on the table.

"I'm old now. I can't do things like I used to..."

"You know that when I'm with you all, this is what I least want to hear."

After filling both cups, Diego sat back down. His posture was quite improper, as though he were practically sprawled in the chair, but Pasteur seemed long accustomed to it.

"All right, I won't say it. I read the letter you sent last time. The Sinister Wasteland becoming what it is now truly poses a huge threat, both to the Imperium and to humanity."

The elderly scholar took a light breath, as if he could see some terrible scenes before him. His expression darkened somewhat.

"A drastic change in the ecosystem will inevitably lead to an increase in the Ork population. I have studied these terrifying creatures for thirty years. I have dissected no fewer than ten Ork corpses, yet they remain a mystery to me. The only thing I can be certain of is that they should fall somewhere between animals and plants. Some of the organs in their bodies possess the characteristics of plant organs—their skin, lungs, liver. That is why they can survive in the harshest environments."

"Old Louis, no one in the Imperium understands Orks better than you. I want to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Do you think Orks possess civilization?"

"Hmm..."

Pasteur set down his teacup, stroked his beard, and thought for quite a while before slowly saying,

"Civilization. How do you define civilization?"

"Everything created by us, whether ideas or material things."

"Then do Orks create?"

Diego did not answer. He merely drank his tea one mouthful at a time. Seeing this, Pasteur took a stack of papers from the drawer.

"This is Carlos's paper. He believes that living creatures undergo a process of evolution, but I have never agreed with him. Orks are actually the greatest flaw in his theory, perhaps in all of biology."

"They are creatures we cannot truly understand."

"I believe they do possess civilization, but theirs is a form of civilization we cannot yet comprehend."

"Is that so? I encountered many interesting things on this trip as well. Their wars, their lives, their thoughts—every one of them overturned my understanding."

"Then you must tell me all about it. No, no, no! I have to write it down."

As he spoke, Pasteur rummaged through the drawer and pulled out a thick notebook and a steel pen.

"Hmm... I should start with a white Ork leader. His name is Guk."

"A white Ork? Are you sure?"

"I lived with him for nearly a month. What do you think?"

"Oh, oh! This is a major discovery! Many creatures have albino specimens. Humans have albino patients too. I never expected Orks to have them as well. That means in certain respects, they may possibly be similar to..."

Warm sunlight streamed through the window, slowly shifting from white to orange-red as time passed. Before they realized it, the two had talked for most of the day. At that moment, the energy Pasteur displayed was nothing like that of an old man—until he suddenly stopped writing.

"Diego, someone has come for you."

At Pasteur's words, Diego rose expressionlessly and took his hat from the nearby rack.

"Is there trouble?"

"Not exactly. Louis, remember to keep an eye on Aswan for the Three Witches Society. And don't use your power so casually anymore. Though you are a veteran master of the Crow School, with your current physical and mental condition, touching Hanan again would be dangerous."

With that, Diego pulled open the door and walked out. Behind him, Pasteur sighed quietly and gently closed his notebook.

After leaving the university building, Diego crossed the campus to a secluded garden, then took a cigarette and a box of matches from his coat.

"Come out."

He lit the cigarette and took a deep drag before speaking to the empty air. Soon, four figures emerged from the dark corners around him. They were dressed like Diego, clearly all members of the Secret Guard.

"Diego Alatriste, what you did has been exposed!"

The voice was irritable. Its owner was a young man with short fiery-red hair and a high nose bridge.

"Didn't your mentor teach you how to speak to your seniors?"

"Ah!"

With a flick of his finger, Diego sent the burning cigarette butt straight into the man's forehead before he could react, making him scream.

"You!"

"Moxuo! Stop!"

The furious young man immediately placed a hand on his waist, where a silver pistol was tucked away, but another man, slightly older, promptly restrained him.

"What, you want to draw a gun?"

"Diego Alatriste! You have been accused of violating Imperium law and aiding the Imperium's enemies!"

"Oh? Which enemy? How come I don't know?"

He casually lit another cigarette. Diego knew perfectly well that someone was targeting him again. The Secret Guard's internal structure was unusual: there were no superiors or subordinates, and every Secret Guard answered directly to the emperor. As a result, they also watched one another. He carried a prestigious name, and many young men wanted to replace him.

"Thirty-five days ago, someone withdrew ten tons of steel from Finan Steelworks in Aksum Province. The order listed it for military use, but the recent military supply records of the Aswan Defense Line contain no trace of those ten tons! Furthermore, someone saw a Secret Guard leading a squad of soldiers and dozens of carts into the Sinister Wasteland. The carts that came back were all empty! Where is the steel? Did the Orks eat all ten tons of it? Or can you give us a proper explanation, Diego?"

After taking several more deep drags, Diego suddenly smiled and tossed the cigarette butt to the ground, crushing it beneath his shoe.

"I thought it was something serious. Is there anything else? If not, I'll be leaving. I'm busy."

His disdainful attitude instantly made the four young men flush red. They simultaneously drew the swords and pistols at their waists.

"Diego Alatriste! We accuse you of colluding with another race and endangering the Imperium's border security! In the emperor's name, we hereby place you under arrest! You have the right to defend yourself afterward, but any resistance now will be considered defiance against the sacred emperor and the Imperium, punishable by Execution!"

Tilting his head, Diego swept his gaze across them, shook his head, and sighed in disappointment.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. New recruits these days really aren't much. If you're going to make a move, stop talking so much beforehand. Is this how you normally work? No wonder the Imperium is getting more and more chaotic."

"Shut up!"

"Stop!"

A furious shout suddenly came from outside the garden. A burly middle-aged man strode quickly in. He was also a Secret Guard, and a long scar across his face made him look somewhat fierce.

"Yalide!?"

Everyone looked at the man in confusion. He rarely appeared, but whenever he did, he brought an imperial decree.

This time was no exception. After arriving before Diego, he took out a roll of purple parchment, the color reserved for the Benedict Royal Family.

"His Majesty summons Secret Guard Diego Alatriste to an audience at the palace!"

Upon hearing this, the four Secret Guards exchanged glances, then turned and quickly vanished from Diego's sight.

"What does His Majesty want with me?"

"I don't know. Ask him yourself after entering the Purple Palace. For now, let's go."

Though somewhat puzzled, Diego followed Yalide through a secret passage reserved for the Secret Guard and arrived at the heart of the Benedict Empire—the Purple Palace. It was an ancient stone palace with eight hundred years of history. Though its masters had changed time and again, the palace's dominant color had always been the purple that symbolized nobility.

On the way to the main hall, Diego encountered a group of Arcanists in pale cyan robes. Though they acted friendly, Diego did not particularly like them, because they involved themselves too deeply in politics.

"Your Majesty, Diego Alatriste has arrived."

The private room was simply furnished. A man was intently painting an oil canvas. Hearing the voice, he set down his brush and turned around.

"Yalide, you may leave."

"Yes!"

He was a very ordinary-looking middle-aged man, with neatly combed brown hair and unavoidable wrinkles on his face. His eyes were small but gentle, and beneath his nose sat two neat strips of mustache. He wore an equally ordinary set of casual clothes, yet he ruled humanity's largest empire.

Minaqi III Ilus, the current emperor of the Benedict Empire and the seventh emperor of the Ilus Dynasty, was personally very fond of painting. In his youth, he had studied under an assumed name at Cusconar Imperial Art University. Some had remarked that if he had not been emperor, humanity would have gained a great painter. But reality was that, at the age of twenty-five, he inherited the entire empire from his father, who had died of illness.

Minachi III was a gentle and benevolent man, but the Imperium now faced many crises. Some had been left unresolved for a long time, some had arisen alongside industrialization, and there was also financial chaos. He had not handled these problems particularly well.

"Your Majesty."

Diego removed his hat but did not bow. Minachi III merely smiled and beckoned to him warmly.

"Van Helsing, come see what you think of this painting."

"Your Majesty, I haven't used that name in a long time."

Walking to the painting, Diego gave it a look. It was a landscape with considerable charm, but he did not believe the emperor had summoned him merely to admire his work.

"Recently, there have been some rumors about you. It isn't only within the Secret Guard—quite a few people have their eyes on you. I was thinking... you have been busy for a long time. It is time for you to rest."

Diego said nothing. He quietly looked at the oil painting, his heart calm. In truth, he had already guessed this outcome.

The emperor beside him picked up two exquisite goblets and handed one to him.

"Just so happens, Anna is already eight years old and keeps insisting that she wants to learn swordsmanship. I doubt many people in the Imperium can surpass your swordsmanship. For the time being, you will serve as her swordsmanship instructor."

At the mention of that name, Diego's expression softened slightly. The eldest princess of the Imperium was also the only person in this palace whom he felt close to.

"As you command, Your Majesty."

"Ah, it is only the two of us. No need for so much formality. After all... you watched me grow up, Uncle."